Free The Living Throne (The War of Memory Cycle Book 3) by H. Anthe Davis

anger the other.
    And still the Guardians watched.
    The eye looked up at him, its bud closing around it briefly like a blink.  He didn't know what to say.  The tree-folk were still retreating, ungainly on knobbled limbs, and though he called after them, they didn't look back.
    “Pikes,” he muttered, then told the eye, “See what you did?”
    It blinked again.
    “They don't like you, huh.  Well, I don't like you in my skin.  What in blazes d'you think you're doing there?”
    Blink.
    He exhaled heavily and wiped his hand on his breeches.  “Fine.  Not like I don't have enough parasites.  But y'better be more useful than the pikin' Guardian.”
    It bobbed slightly—perhaps a nod—then retreated back inside him.  His skin sealed smoothly over it, and he shuddered.
    The line was gone, so he started pulling off the ornaments as he looked around.  No one lurked in the moon-set dark; the hogs' campfire and his friends were all that remained.  Frowning, he wondered where the copper person had gone.  He still wanted to speak with it.
    “I'm gonna take a walk,” he told his friends as he dropped the ornaments on the pile of gifts.  “Go join the hogs.”  There were a few nods, a few looks of objection, but no real argument; they all looked exhausted.  At least among the hogs, they should be safe.
    Turning his back on them, he headed uphill toward the thicker woods.
    Haurah, we need to talk , he thought, and instantly she was at his side.
    By the look of her, she felt contrite: ears tucked tight, gaze averted.  But she did not speak, and as they entered the trees, Cob mumbled, “You need t'tell me what you know.”
    'About?'
    He stopped and stared at her.  “I'm done askin' nicely.  You lot need to open yourselves to me and quit disappearin' any time somethin' sensitive comes up.  I don't know why you're hidin' things, but it's not acceptable.  We may not be bound anymore, but goin' after Enkhaelen could still kill the both of us.  Let me in.”
    Her wolfish eyes met his, then flicked away.  'It is not so easy,' she said.  'Since we did not mesh with you upon entry, we do not know how much we can show you without overwhelming you.'
    “Stop makin' excuses.”
    'I am not.  Many vessels took days to regain themselves after our arrival.  We do not have that luxury, not with your plan, and we know you do not trust us around your friends.'
    Cob scowled.  “For good reason.  You hate most of 'em.”
    'We do not understand why you keep company with them, true.  But we—I—do not wish that to come between us.  Others think differently.  We are not all of one mind.'
    “Yeah, I've pikin' well seen that.”
    'Then you understand our restraint.'
    “No.  We don't need to mesh, you just have t'show me what I need to see.  Like what happened with Enkhaelen in the swamp.”
    Haurah stiffened.  Still looking away, she said, 'I do not remember.'
    “Don't lie to me.”
    'Ko Vrin, I—'
    “No.  He didn't kill you.  He brought that head t'you, but apparently it wasn't t' goad you into a fight.  So what happened?”
    Her hands curled into fists, and he realized she was trembling, her skin subtly velveting with fur as she stared into the woods.  “Haurah,” he tried again.
    Her gaze snapped to him, eyes blazing with a feral light.  'He lied!  He was full of lies!  He said he wanted to help us while he held the head of my dead mate!  He showed me the white worms in it and said they were why we should never come to the Palace, but I knew they were his work!  He wanted to frighten us away, but I am no cub!  I refuse to be frightened of worms!'
    “The—  The Guardian disagreed?” said Cob, unnerved by her fervor.
    'The prey-folk, prey-spirits, they are cowards,' she snarled, slinking toward him.  Though she was small and insubstantial, the lean coiled fury of her frame triggered an ancient alarm in his blood, and it was all he could do to stay still.  'They tried to make me flee, but I